Young Writers Society

My eyes fly open and an agonizing scream erupts from my throat as pain courses through my body. I close my eyes again and clamp my mouth shut, cutting off my scream, but the torment continues almost more exasperating than before. I can feel the fire on my skin, in my bones. I writhe on the floor feeling as though my body, no; my soul is being shred into two. With what little control I have, I curl up into a ball and try to bring my arms forward to protect myself as much as I can. My wrists yank against something hard, but the burning is too hot for me to think about what is blocking them.

The sharp sting suddenly increases in intensity for just a second before it slowly begins to fade away. I wait until my body is numb before I open my mouth to let in a deep gasp of air. My ragged breath echoes around the stone chamber. I re-open my eyes and try to slowly move my stiff body to look around. My shirt has been ripped in more places than one and my pants are cut just below the knee. My legs are bound together, just as my hands are, and my shoes are gone. Cuts and bruises decorate my skin, and I feel a small trail of blood rolling down from my right eyebrow. Somehow, I know this isn’t from the recent affliction.

The only light in the room turns on, hardly fighting back the darkness. I turn towards it as a shadow falls over me.

“Like it?” A low and menacing voice chuckles above me. “Our new torture device?” I look up into the cold blue eyes of a man crouching down beside me. He waves a small remote in front of my face showing the cause of my suffering like a child would do with a new toy. Obviously, I don’t share his excitement and he soon gets bored with my glare, stands up and paces around the room. I lock on him with my eyes and follow him with my head.

I ignore his question. “Who are you?” I whisper.

The man is silent for a moment. He smiles and shakes his head. “Wrong question,” he says before I’m thrown back into another spasm of torment. I clench my teeth, expecting this one to be similar to the last. But this one only extends a few seconds. I pant as it disintegrates again.

“What do you… want from me?” I ask in between gulps of air. Sometime during my last bolt of pain, the man had walked behind me. I think about turning to look, but my muscles refuse to move.

“I want information,” the man answers casually.

“What information?” I demand, still out of breath.

The man shuffles behind me, and when he speaks again, his voice is so close to my head, I can smell his breath and feel his body heat. “I want to know a little bit more about that girlfriend of yours.”

My eyes widen. Charlotte? How can they know…? Nobody knows; we’re hidden! How can they know? Panic spreads across my face. If they know about Charlotte and myself, how much more information do they have?

The man stands back up and withdraws to other side of the room so he is once again in my view. He smiles when he sees the stupor of terror flash on my face. “Oh, does it surprise you we know about you and your little ‘rebellion’?” I don’t answer. The man nods. “Oh, yes. We’ve known for quite some time. What’s her name? Scarlett or something, right?” His gaze turns pointedly on me. I know what he’s doing, I know he’s trying to get a reaction from me, but I can’t stop myself from answering.

“Maybe Violet,” he mutters to himself.

“If you dare touch her,” I threaten. I don’t get a chance to finish before a quick burst of torture hits my flesh. This time, I’m unprepared and I can’t block the moan from escaping my lips. I shut my mouth and closed my eyes, trying to wait out the anguish. It ends quickly but still leaves me breathless and sweating. I uncurl slightly and open my eyes so I can look the man in the face. Even if I’m on the floor, in desperation, my hands tied behind my back, I will remain strong.

The man crouches down just a few feet away from my face. “Don’t act all tough, Weakling. I will break you; you will give me the answers I want or die protecting them. And frankly,” he says, shaking his head once. “It doesn’t matter to me whether or not you co-operate.” We stay silent for a moment, my fury and resentment growing, before he speaks again. “Oh, and one more thing. You tell me what I want to know, and you go free.”

Free. I’ve only been in this dismal cell for a mere three days and already that word appeals to me. I miss freedom, but only because I miss Charlotte. Her face flashes through my mind from the last time I’ve seen her, beaming and cheerful.

Her dark brown hair drifts in the breeze that whispers to the sea the sun sinks into. It’s dying light reflecting off of her brilliant green eyes. She’s been holding my hand; it’s the first time she dares entrust anyone with her heart and she quickly drops her arm, blushing as brightly as the sky.

Is my freedom more important than her? Another gust of wind blows through my mind and she’s gone. No. Nothing is more important than her.

My face darkens with venom. “Never!” I growl.

The man finally frowns. “Wrong choice.”

A buzz sounds in my ears as I’m once again engulfed in agony, this time more excruciating than even the first, like cutting a newly healed wound. I close my eyes and scream, forgetting my goal to stand strong, living my own personal hell. My bones aren’t the center of a fire; they’re the liquid molten at the bottom of a volcano. My body jerks back and forth, completely out of my control. My eyes fly back open focusing on the man. He stands in the corner, looking at me as if he were reading paperwork. My disgust, my horror, and my loathing blaze as high as the torment I feel before my vision dissolves to black.

No! I howl to myself. Charlotte’s grinning face flashes once more across my sight before she too darkens. No! No! No! I scream before my anguish diminishes as well until I can’t feel anything.

A quick memory, or maybe a dream, flares up in a last pursuit to give me endurance.

We’re sitting on the tree that hangs parallel to my balcony, dangling our feet over the side. The sun’s already set and the air is getting brisk. Charlotte leans her head against my neck and I drape my arm over her shoulder in an attempt to keep her warm.

“I love you,” Charlotte breaths closing her eyes. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it in affection.

“I love you too…”I whisper back.

And that’s when I know it’s only a hallucination. The words I’ve fantasized of hearing, the words I’ve fantasized of telling, will never be said.